Holidays
by dyingimmortal
Summary: Three birthdays Levi has with Petra, and one without. Rivetra.


_A/N: This is super super rushed because I wrote it as quickly as I could to get it out before midnight December 26. I succeeded on tumblr; I failed on ffnet. Anyway, I'll be editing this even more in the future, I swear._

* * *

**Holidays**

or: three birthdays levi has with petra (and one without)

* * *

_one._

The streets of Sina are as familiar to Levi as the back of his own hand; the twisting roads are his living room, the rooftops his attic, the abandoned warehouses his bed. He knows them in and out, every winding alleyway, every deserted back building, and he's sure he can navigate them even in his sleep.

They are still the same in wintertime, but something feels different about them when they are blanketed in snow. It is not the crisp powdery layer of white coating everything, or the stinging chill in the air that freezes his breath inside his lungs, or even how quiet the streets are when it is snowing, most of the populace content to stay inside where it is warm.

There is just something about a fresh snowfall that brings out a certain quality of Sina, hides it ugly faces and covers its cruel tendencies, leaving behind only a clean, quiet city, peaceful and even beautiful in the brisk, chilly winter mornings.

It is lovely, to be sure, but Levi doesn't care because he's fucking _cold_.

It's his own fault, really, for telling Farlan and Isabel he'd wait for them as they went back for supplies—he should have gone with them; maybe the movement would warm his limbs, thaw his breath, but instead he is standing outside by the chandlery, his thin jacket and worn scarf hardly a barrier against the frigid wind whipping through the streets, sending little piles of snow blowing through the air.

He is stomping his feet, cursing in his head and wishing he had a better pair of boots, when the door to the shop opens and a little girl steps out.

She is small and probably skinny, but she is bundled up so well her coat makes her look three times thicker than she probably is. A hat pulled low over her ears hides her hair and a thick scarf wrapped around the lower part of her face covers her mouth, but her eyes are big and inquisitive as she cocks her head at him, as if puzzled by his presence.

"Shut the door!" Levi hears the chandler shout from inside his shop. "The cold air's getting in."

The girl closes the door but stays where she is, still staring at Levi. Her bright gaze unnerves him and he glares back.

"Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" he snaps. "It's rude to stare."

She blinks rapidly, startled, and looks away, but not before he hears the quiet murmur of her voice: "Aren't you cold, mister?"

It's odd, being called _mister_; he's only eighteen—_no_, he thinks, _nineteen_, how strange, he nearly forgot, today's his birthday—so he doesn't respond at first. She must take his silence for acquiescence, because suddenly she is pulling her gloves off, revealing another pair underneath, and bringing them forward, walking closer until she is right in front of him, and she holds out her hands to him with a shy smile.

It's his turn to stare now, uncomprehendingly, and she huffs a little, a puff of air escaping her lungs to mist in the air. "It's because I have many pairs," she explains, like he's the child and she's the adult. "So you can have one."

His first instinct is to reject the offer, to scowl and snap that he doesn't need charity from little brats, but there is something particularly innocent in her expression as she looks at him, and his hands _are_ nearly numb with cold.

So he reaches for the gloves—they are warm and woolen and too big for her, which he thinks will fit his hands just right—and mumbles, "Thanks."

She beams back at him. "Merry Christmas!"

_Right._ Christmas. A holiday of cheer and goodwill, of family and friends and feasts. Levi doesn't know how it originated, but he can't remember having ever felt spirited or cheerful on this day; and it is also his birthday, but he has no reason to celebrate surviving another year on the streets.

He must have accidentally spoken out loud, because the girl's eyes widen and she lets out a little gasp. "Your birthday's on _Christmas_? That's so cool! Happy birthday!"

She looks genuinely excited, though why, he has no idea; she doesn't even know him. But she looks so happy for him, and he can't remember anyone ever being so delighted about something to do with _him_, so he mutters, "Merry Christmas to you too."

Long after she leaves, long after Farlan and Isabel finally catch up and they head for their original destination, long after the day is over and he lies on a rough straw mattress against the rotting wood floor of an abandoned warehouse, attempting to sleep, he wonders about the little girl and her enthusiasm, her good cheer, her willingness to help a complete stranger, and he thinks if everyone is like that on Christmas, then maybe it wouldn't be such a pointless holiday after all.

* * *

_two._

Levi knows very well what happens whenever he lets Hanji drag him into something, yet somehow he always finds himself being dragged in anyway.

Christmas is already an obscure holiday to him—its meaning has been lost long before the Titans breached the walls, and he does not know what its purpose is, why people celebrate it anyway, but this is the first time he has ever heard of a "Santa Claus," much less a "Secret Santa," and he fully blames Hanji for the whole situation.

"It's not that hard of a concept, even for you, Levi," she'd said. "You just have to pick a person's name out of a hat and whoever you choose, you buy that person a present. You have to keep it a secret though."

And Levi doesn't know how his squad convinced him to join the game—maybe because he has only known them a few months and he does not want them to be too wary of him yet—but they did, and he somehow managed to pick Petra, and he has no idea what he is supposed to buy her.

He never buys people presents, ever, but he always thought that if he did, he'd get them cleaning solution. No one uses it enough, in his opinion.

But Petra is _Petra_, the only woman on his squad, young and carefree yet an excellent fighter in her own right, and he doesn't think cleaning solution is the right way to go when it comes to her.

Which is why, feeling like a complete and utter fool, he left her a box of chocolates on her chair Christmas morning, and now he is sitting at the breakfast table, waiting for her to come back from the kitchen where she is brewing a pot of coffee.

He has just started considering taking it back and going upstairs to find one of his many unopened bottles of germ-killing spray when she appears in the doorway, a tray of steaming cups in her hands, her ever-present smile on her face.

"Good morning, captain!" she says, setting the tray down and heading for her chair. "Merry Christmas—"

Her words halt when she sees the box on her chair. She reaches down and picks it up, fingers handling it gently, and peers at the label.

"These must have been expensive," she says, a slight frown marring her brow. "I—thank you, captain! You didn't have to get me something so nice."

He must look confused, because she laughs a little and says, "It's supposed to be a secret, but you make it really obvious because who else could have left this here when you're the only one awake so far?"

Of course. Levi is just thinking this gift-giving thing must be addling his brain when he hears footsteps clomping down the hallway. A moment later, the door is flung open and Hanji stands there, grinning.

"Good morning!" she exclaims. "Merry Christmas! And happy birthday, Levi, you grump."

Levi scowls at her, but Petra gasps and looks back and forth between them. "It's your birthday today?" she exclaims.

"Funny, right?" Hanji says. "And he has no holiday cheer, too."

Petra looks dismayed. "I didn't know!" she says. "I didn't choose you for the Secret Santa gift exchange so I didn't even get you anything, and you left me this nice box of chocolates."

"It doesn't matter," Levi says quickly. "I don't want anything."

But Petra still looks upset, and Hanji is still chuckling at her own joke, and Levi doesn't know why, but seeing Petra upset makes him feel guilty, so he adds, "You can just wish me a happy birthday."

She is contemplating the box of chocolates when he speaks and she looks up, her eyes oddly light, glinting a warm amber, and there is a spark of something like determination in them she says quietly, "Happy birthday, captain. I'll get you something next year, I promise."

Levi never gives gifts, almost never receives gifts and has never wanted to, but for some reason he thinks he'll look forward to this one.

* * *

_three._

They have Christmas off this year, so Levi does not feel guilty when he wakes up with the sun streaming through his curtains, does not fear footsteps lingering outside his door, does not worry that someone might walk in looking for him and find Petra as a bonus.

She is tucked in his arms, nestled against his chest, and she sighs in satisfaction as he shifts, tugging her slightly to the side as he does.

"I like to watch sunrises," she says, "but waking up to find the sun already risen is nice too."

He supposes she is right, but he finds her hair a much nicer color, her skin much more tangible than the rays of light filtering through his window, and he does not care for the sun when he already has one of his own in his bed.

"Today's Christmas," he says.

"Mm," she murmurs against his collarbone, voice faint. She does not want to get up.

He smirks. "That was one hell of a Christmas Eve."

"Shut up," she mumbles, but she taps her fingers down his hip playfully and he has to bat her hand away before she can do something that will make him want to move, and he is content to just lie here for now, lie here with her and enjoy her presence.

"What did you usually do on Christmas?" he wants to know. "Before you joined the Scouting Legion."

Petra sighs and he can feel her breath tickle his chest. "Celebrate with my parents and occasionally neighbors. I just remember a lot of food and candles. What about you?"

He does not like to think of his time on the streets anymore, does not like to think of Isabel and Farlan, but right now, the room is toasty and warm and all reminders of his past seem like a distant memory, something from a bad dream interspersed with good moments. "I never celebrated Christmas," he tells her.

"Well, you do now," she says, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"And happy birthday, Levi." Her fingers trail down his chest again, more slowly this time, and he can feel her grin against his skin. "That reminds me, you deserve a birthday present..."

He doesn't complain.

* * *

_and one._

Christmas this year feels different, and he doesn't think it's just because they're not there, because he's alone at the table. He's spent many holidays alone before, but this one is different, not even like he is expecting someone who should be there but is not; it's more like they are there, but they are invisible to him. He can feel them sitting in their chairs, laughing as they raise their cups to him in a toast: _Merry Christmas, captain, _he hears their voices cheer.

He raises his cup slightly too, tilts it towards the empty chairs across from him, and closes his eyes. "Merry Christmas," he says. "Petra," he adds more quietly, and takes a sip.

He probably did not close the windows properly, it is probably the wind, but as he swallows the bitter liquid, he could swear he hears a quiet murmur swirling in his ears, feels a faint touch caress his face. If he keeps his eyes shut, he can still see the details of her face etched into his memory: her honest face, her laughing eyes, her lovely hair, her soft lips parting as her voice rings in the silence of the room to say:

_Happy birthday, Levi._


End file.
